One Shot
by Rama Pi
Summary: TVBookverse A collection of one shots
1. Sentence

**Title:** Sentence

**Warnings: **Angst, very slightly implied torture, spoilers for Bob's life/death

The young Warden bowed low, hiding his face from her severe eyes. Marie nodded at the Warden and continued through the brief hallway. The huge wooden doors were pushed open before her by a pair of short, wide toad creatures.

She entered the Hall. The Hall was pure white with long tapestries hung on the wall and an impossibly high ceiling. A crowd was gathered there. In the center of the half circle they had formed were two high white marble tables. The Thirteen of the Council stood closest to these tables, but they were still several feet from them.

Marie approached without fear. On the table nearest the door, a young woman lay on her back. Her head was slumped to one side. A long, grey arrow was embedded in her chest, in her heart. She was dead. Marie stopped at the table and gazed down at her. She brushed a beautiful lock of red hair from the woman's face.

There were few who did not know and pity Winifred's second death.

On the second table lay the man responsible for the most regretted death. He also lay on his back, but he was stiff. His head faced the ceiling and his eyes were closed. He was still alive. Marie could sense the many spells of binding and sleep around him. It took a powerful wizard to make the Thirteen use so many.

She moved to his side. His clothes were ragged. He was a peasant even with all his power. There was a bracelet of dark impure iron around each of his wrists. The runes in the metal would bind his arms should he awaken. The blue cloth, embroidered with golden symbols, in his mouth would keep him mute.

Her attention was drawn to his hands. She ran her hands over his and lifted his right to look closer at the ring on his first finger. It was grey. The gem dark, possibly red. It was nothing special, but she could feel the faith magic contained in it even with him sedated. On his left pinky was a slightly smaller blue version of the same ring. Her eyes widened slightly when she realized it had been Winifred's.

There was true love, true power in these rings.

Her hands moved to his head. She tilted it back and forth. The runes were there. The spell was in place. "There is no doubt of his guilt," she asked mechanically.

"No, milady," a calm voice answered her from the crowd.

The rune covered axe was placed in her hand. She watched the man sleep for just a moment, and felt a sense of pity for his fate. Then she rolled him over, unceremoniously, baring the back of his head.

The axe rose and fell with barely a sound, the faintest glow of magic and not a trace of scarlet blood.

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**A/N **Marie is supposed to be Mai. I figure the Anglo-Saxons were pretty ignorant of Asia in general, so when Mai goes to see them she takes an Anglo-Saxon face and name to keep them comfortable.


	2. Voyeur

**Title:** Voyeur

**Warnings: **Bob being a perv

Hrothbert walked through the wall. "Harry?" He looked around. It was suspiciously quiet in the house. He moved to the end of his chain and just managed to look around the corner into the kitchen. "Harry?" He walked around the house. No one was home, or if they were they were very quiet and knew how to keep out of his way.

He paused at the bottom of the stairs. He stared up them and wished for a brief moment that he could climb them. But he settled for one more, "Harry?" No answer. He frowned and focused his limited senses.

The faintest hint of a sound met his ears. He walked toward it quickly. The sound was a waltz. Something old. If he tried he could pinpoint its origin. He stood in the door and gazed into the small guest room.

Clothing of various kinds were strewn about the rarely used room. He opened his mouth to reprimand Harry for his organizational skills, but a soft mewl cut through the waltz. He blinked in surprise and it dawned on him where all these clothes had come from. He leaned to one side, struggling against his chain. No luck.

He sighed and stood near the wall. He was content to listen.


	3. Waltz

**Title:** Waltz

**Warnings: **A teeny tiny bit of language

Hrothbert was a good dancer. He was an exceptional dancer if he didn't say so himself. Hell. He was around when the waltz and the quick step and swing were being invented. The only problem with dance was that you needed a partner. A partner that you could touch that is.

He sighed softly and suddenly found himself moving through a partnerless waltz. A gentle glide around the room. He closed his eyes and could imagine a soft sweet song in his mind.

"Bob?" The voice made the ghost jump and fall ungracefully off his toes. He tried to ignore Harry's smug wicked eyes as he slipped back into his skull.


	4. Position

**Title: **Position

**Warnings:** A little language, spoilers for What About Bob?

This is stupid. It could have worked out so much better then this. But, dammit, Morningway just can't shut his big fat mouth and get on the other side of me. I call out, "Change of plans," and slam the hockey stick into Morningway's back and let my building magic explode forth.

For this spell to work and leave all but the battery in tact, I must be standing in the middle. I need the battery on one side and the resurrectee on the other. That way, when I reach out and rip the battery's soul and energy out of their body, it travels through me and out into the other. The way it is now, I tear out Morningway's soul and it hits me. It tears out my own life force along with it and both go back through Morningway and into Harry.

I am weakening, but I hold and alter the spell just enough to vaporize my previous master where he stands. Harry is calling out. He's alive. That's good. Shame I hadn't made it last though.

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**A/N:** This story was written because they never really explained why Bob could do the spell to kill Harry, but couldn't kill Morningway without killing himself. The only thing particularly significant about the two events was that Bob changed position in relation to the battery and the resurectee.


	5. Lego's

**Title:** Lego's

**Warnings: **Angst, darkness, emo

The years had changed him. They would have changed anyone. His usually sunken eyes were dark shadowed cavities in his down-turned face. He stared down at Dresden's fallen body. "It was necessary," Ancient Mai said unfeelingly.

Hrothbert looked up quickly and clicked his tongue. A terrible shadow of a smile, as fake as it gets, appeared on his face. "Of course. Of course." He looked down, hi eyes vanishing again. "Can't let dangerous dark wizards run around, now can we?"

A Warden picked up Hrothbert's skull. "Ready to go?" he asked.

"As I'll ever be," Hrothbert answered softly. The High Council vanished. An unidentified corpse was found in the mountains a week later and the case was filed away shortly afterwards.

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**A/N:** Lego's is a reference to page 86 of Fool Moon.

'And I knew that there was some dark corner of me that would enjoy using magic for killing-and then long for more. That was black magic, and it was easy to use. Easy and fun. Like Lego's.'


	6. Lonely

**Title:** Lonely

**Warnings: **Angst

He was there every day. Emily first noticed him about a month ago when she was on her daily morning run. He stood in the shadow of one of the oldest trees. He was nattily dressed in a stuffy outdated suit. He had white hair and stood straight and stiff, as if moving from the position would cause him pain. He always stared to the south.

At first, she'd found it rather disturbing. She knew there were plenty of psychos running around the parks of the world, but the fact that one would come back every day to the same place, to do the same thing. It just bothered her.

But then she started to watch him. And she discovered he did move. He shifted position every now and then. The most intriguing motion, though, was when he sniffed. It wasn't like an 'I have a cold' sniff. It was as if he were crying. Her suspicions were confirmed when, once, he bent and wiped a tear out of his eye and rubbed his cheek dry.

She probably should have called the police and told them about the possibly suicidal, crying man in the park. Instead, she chose to approach him. She found that she became cold and shuddered with some kind of primal fear as she got closer to him. Eventually he noticed her and turned just enough to look at her out of the corner of his eye. She was startled by the profound tiredness written in every line of his face.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly. "I mean... I've noticed... that you come here a lot."

He laughed a laugh devoid of humor or joy and looked back to the south. "You should leave me alone. I'm dangerous." He hissed the last s out as if remembering something painful. She watched him for a long moment and was struck by something she'd missed all of the times she'd watched him.

He was lonely, a kind of lonely that tore at the soul and led people to drugs and knives, the kind of loneliness that can only come from losing hope. She involuntarily reached for him, but he noticed and jerked away.

She had gotten his attention, but that only seemed to deepen the lines in his face and darken that air around him. "Please," he whispered. "Please. I just want to be alone for awhile." His eyes begged her and she felt herself step away.

She turned her back to him and began to walk away. When she glanced over her shoulder, he was watching her sadly.


	7. Skull

**Title:** Skull

**Warnings: **Violence, angst

Harry stared at the skull. It wasn't the first time. He ran his hands over the familiar markings. He had never been able to identify any of them. He knew, without a doubt, that the skull most certainly didn't bind Bob to life. If he smashed it to bits, he knew that Bob would still be here, though he might be damaged beyond repair. The skull was simply the post for Bob's chain.

And possibly the anchor to the spell that bound him here. Harry glanced down at the powder in his hand. A memory spell. One that would let him see the creation of the markings and possibly the secret to releasing Bob. He waved his hand over the skull, scattering the powder on and around it. He pressed a bit of energy into it, to activate the spell and placed his hand ceremoniously on the skull.

He gasped and was drawn instantly into the world of memories, into a world of nightmares. The memories came in sharp wicked flashes, like knives. Screaming. Cruel voices and laughs. Blood, hot, running down his head. A knife, carved with runes to cut the bone. His hands tied behind his back. Manacles as heavy as death itself. The grip of vicious hateful fingers. Tearing, ripping, shredding pain. And the screaming.

Harry was jerked back into reality by a soft familiar voice. He was on the ground, shaking and gasping. He quivered in fear as a dark clad figure bent next to him and a pale hand brushed his skin. Brushed through his skin.

He looked up and met Bob's eyes. Bob knew. He nodded softly, confirming the reality of the experience. Harry watched the grey eyes shiver with remembered pain and a slow understanding began to grow in him. "Oh, Bob. I'm so sorry. So, so sorry."


	8. Cemetery Roses

**Title:** Cemetery Roses

**Warnings:** None

The soft crunch of boots on old stone echoed over the cemetery grounds. The cool mist partially concealed a young woman making her way through the maze of gravestones. She stumbled over the ground, unkempt for almost fifty years, and had to catch herself several times, grabbing a corner of broken stone or the arm of a crumbling angel. She finally stopped at an old, cracked marble slab.

She paused for a moment to stare down at the golden lettering before reaching into the messenger bag at her side. She carefully extracted a skull covered heavily in runes. "Hey. We're here," she said quietly into what had once been the skull's ear.

There was a flare of soft gold light amidst black smoke and a man materialized by her side. He was looking down at the single rose on the grave, a vague smile on his face.

The rose was old, black from lack of water, as dead as its surroundings. The wind and rain had swept most of its petals away, but there was peace in the image of the only flower left in the cemetery.

The two stood for a long time over the grave, thinking about the man who was buried there. A cool wind swept through, disturbing the woman's short dark hair. It passed the man gently, leaving him as unrumpled as if it had never touched him.

Finally, she bent down and set a new rose next to the old one. She stood and put her hands in her pockets. She watched the grave a moment longer before turning her eyes to the man.

"He sounds like a great person. I wish I had been able to meet him."

The man nodded. "'He died doing the right thing.'" He quoted softly, knowingly, from the grave stone. He turned to her slowly and smiled after a moment. "Thank you."

She nodded and smiled back. Several sarcastic things about debt came to her mind, but she suppressed them and began to walk away. The man followed closely behind, seemingly unbothered by the uneven ground.

Soon the two had left the hallowed ground to its mists and crumbling stone and the soft color of cemetery roses against white marble.

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**A/N:** In 'Grave Peril,' Harry got a white marble grave stone and its own spot in the graveyard. I figured he would go there when he died.


	9. Stillness

**Title:** Stillness

**Warnings:** None

"Hey Bob!" Harry ran through the front door excitedly. The ghost wasn't in the store front. He moved through the door into the next room. "Bob!" He wasn't there either.

Harry frowned walking hurriedly down a corridor to the small room off to the side. "Bob?" he asked stepping just inside the door. And he paused.

Bob was standing in the center of the room, staring up at the ceiling. Harry looked closer and realized he wasn't looking at the ceiling. He was watching the dust, flickering, shimmering, floating down through a beam of golden light.

He was utterly still. No shift of hands, no gentle sway to keep his balance, not even the rise and fall of breath. There was something old about his stillness. Something that hinted at the passing of years around a man who would exist, unchanging, for all of eternity.

The stillness made the room heavy. It made Harry stop, made his excitement die. He felt a profound sadness take its place as he watched Bob. Several moments passed and slowly Harry's voice came back to him.

"Bob?" he asked softly.

The ghost breathed in slowly and turned. "Harry? What is it?"

"I... I need your help in the lab."

He nodded and moved to join Harry at the door. The wizard stared at Bob, pondering the ghost's existence, until Bob raised an eyebrow.

Harry jerked from his thoughts with a nod and headed toward his hidden work room.


	10. Disgust

**Title:** Disgust

**Warnings: **Thematical stuffs

Bob paced almost frantically, one end of his chain to the other. The bell chinged, a soft shout that pierced through his thoughts.

He moved as close to the front as he could and listened to a faint whisper of voices. They sounded almost panicked and that made his throat clench in worry.

After a few moments the voices stopped and Morgan appeared in the doorway. His expression was grim.

"Did you find him?" Bob asked softly.

Regret flickered across the Warden's face before he met his eyes. "He... they got to him before we could."

"Let me see him," Bob demanded.

"You won't like it."

"Show him to me." He would have stepped forward if he hadn't already been at the end of his chain.

Morgan nodded and went back to the front. He returned with two other Wardens. They held Harry between them.

He was unnaturally pale, breathing hard and shivering. He wobbled, only half supporting himself, and the two Wardens braced themselves to hold him as he went suddenly limp.

"Harry?" Bob wanted more then ever to be able to reach out a comforting, tangible hand.

The wizard twitched away from him and looked up slowly. His eyes were tired, broken.

He awkwardly tried to stand on jello legs and tensed with a violent shudder. His eyes went black and he jerked forward. He broke the Warden's grip on him and lashed out at Bob with a hiss, his hand curled into a claw.

There was no physical damage, but when Bob stepped back his pity, worry turned sharply into disgust and self-loathing.

Disgust at the Red Court vampire Harry was becoming. Self-loathing at his own inability to prevent it.

He pulled away into familiar shadows. He watched the young Wardens struggle to recapture Harry. Slowly, he realized Morgan was watching him and he met his eyes dangerously.

Morgan sighed faintly as the old ghost dissolved into smoke and lights and vanished. He glanced at Harry, felt a sharp pang of pity somewhere in his chest and beckoned his Wardens to follow him out.


	11. Dinner Musings

**Title:** Dinner Musings

**Warnings: **None

"Does it ever wake you in the middle of the night?" Ferro asked suddenly. He set his wine glass down and eyed the woman across from him.

Mai looked up and sat back in her chair. "What? She asked, wiping her hands on her red cloth napkin.

"That... man." Ferro snarled the word out like a curse. He threw his own napkin on the table and crossed his arms. Mai knew the dinner was over for now.

"This again? Does he bother you so much?" Mai asked sourly.

"Does a mortal who will outlive me, _us_, bother me? Yes. Yes he does."

"A man to outlive the dragons," Mai mused softly.

"What were you thinking with that curse? Wouldn't death have suited him?"

Mai leaned forward, a slight flare of anger in her eyes. "Hrothbert of Bainbridge was destined for greatness. He had the power of a god and the knowledge to use it. Chances are he would have outlived us anyway." She leaned back. "Besides, death would have been a mercy to the man, then and now. Isn't true, powerless immortality a far more suitable punishment for a mortal god?"

Ferro made a disgusted noise at the back of his throat. He glanced down at his meal and picked up a fork absent-mindedly. Mai knew dinner had resumed. "A man to outlive the dragons," he muttered dryly and continued to eat in silence.

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**A/N:** Ferro is a dragon that showed up in 'Grave Peril,' for those of you who have never read the books.


	12. Automobile

**Title: **Automobile

**Warnings:** Nope

"What is it?" Hrothbert asked skeptically. The ugly metal contraption was sitting sinisterly by the side of the road. The clip-clop of a passing carriage sounded in the street. 

"It is called an automobile. It's the wave of the future," the older wizard said back. He fondly touched the monstrous thing and Hrothbert wrinkled his nose.

"I hope not. It's disgusting." The wizard shot him a look, climbing into the brown seat, and he shut his mouth. The auto-thing started snarling and Hrothbert was momentarily panicked until he saw the pleased smile on his master's face. "Why is it doing that?"

"What?" He didn't look over at the ghost.

"That. Snarling. It sounds like a rabid wolf."

"That just means its engine is working right. With this I can travel twice as fast as any horse-drawn carriage."

"If it doesn't kill you." He flinched as the engine got louder. "Really, sir. Nothing that functions properly should make a sound like that."

"Oh, what do you know?" the wizard growled, glaring over at the ghost. The scowl didn't last very long though as he recalled the vast knowledge immortality had bestowed on Hrothbert.

"I like to think I know what the natural world is supposed to sound like." He cocked an eyebrow. "I hope I do not need to say, that is not it."

"Don't run from the future, Robert," the wizard said, almost happily, pulling out into the street. Hrothbert watched the car grow smaller, and a quiet smirk appeared on his face when the black beast came to sharp stop and started spewing grey smoke.


	13. To Die

**Title:** To Die

**Warnings:** Angst, unexplained stuff

Bob collapsed. Harry was screaming in the background. The world was fading. Dark blotches filled his vision. Harry's hands felt nice against his skin, the first touch in so very long. He shuddered. For a moment he wanted to stay, wanted to spend the rest of his life with the wizard, but another wave of numbness struck and he knew there would be no life. And truth be told, he welcomed the quiet dark. If he couldn't live, he wanted to die. Anything but go back to that prison again.

He smiled into Harry's sad face, trying to convey his sympathies with the look, and let his head fall back and slipped away.

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**A/N:** Hmmm. So this really didn't turn out how it was supposed to, but I thought it was good enough to merit posting.


	14. Birthday

**Title:** Birthday

**Warnings:** None

Harry knew something was wrong the moment Bob appeared. The ghost had his back to him and only turned after a long, thoughtful pause. "What's up, Bob?"

He shook his head. "Nothing. Nothing. What do you need?"

"No. There's something wrong. Tell me."

Bob sighed, an irritated expression in his eyes. Then he looked away sadly. "It's my thousandth birthday."

"Oh?"

He smiled vaguely. "A thousand years is a long time." He glanced back at Harry. "I do this every now and then. Think too much about... me. One year. Ten years. One hundred. Five hundred. Every big hurtle." He shrugged and smiled faintly.

Silence fell in the lab. It lasted a long few moments as each tried to move on.

"Happy birthday," Harry finally muttered, breaking the quiet.

Bob smiled in earnest. "Thank you Harry." And the two set to work on the latest case.


	15. Fault

**Title:** Fault

**Warnings:** Angst, language

"It's nobody's fault, Bob."

"Wrong!" the ghost barked. "This. This is your fault. You and that goddamned White Council."

"How could we have known that he would be captured?"

Bob snarled darkly. The air around him turned to ice and Morgan couldn't help but shudder and step back. "Well, I don't know. Maybe you could have considered sending him in with more then the greenest Wardens you had. Maybe," he tilted his head a little. "Maybe you could have sent someone with expertise in sneaking through Red Court territory. Maybe, instead of sending the one wizard the Court would turn without a second though, you could have sent someone else. Anyone else."

"We don't have anyone like that."

"You are a liar, Donald Morgan."

The Warden actually flinched. It was silly to flinch. The ghost had no affect on the world besides making the air around him cold. He couldn't hurt him. But the sharp hate in his voice would have made even Mai twitch a little.

Morgan breathed a soft sigh. "He's doing okay, all things considered. He has it the most under control during the day. I suppose that's to be expected." Bob's eyes softened and saddened just a little at his words. "We have the best we can spare trying to find a cure for him." The ghost glanced at him, and the familiar pang of pity struck him. "There have been a few promising results, but... nothing conclusive. We'll keep trying. We won't stop until he's human again."

Bob nodded, turning so his back faced Morgan. He went up in a soft puff of smoke and disappeared into the dark corner had become his home.

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**A/N:** This is a continuation of 'Disgust' dedicated to Pohog, who gave me the most encouraging review I've ever gotten. Much thanks!


	16. Impressions

**Title: **Impressions

**Warnings:** Insinuations of gay-hood

"So... how are you guys doing?" Liz asked over her glass.

Harry glanced up at her, eyebrows raised. "I'm doing fine."

"And the tea expert?"

"O-oh. Well, you know. He's doing good."

Liz eyed him quietly. Why did Harry always try to avoid talking about him? It seemed odd. A little... protective. Over the months that she had gotten to know the 'wizard' she'd noticed that Bob was the only thing he got defensive over. "Why don't you ever talk about him, Dresden?"

"What are you talking about? I talk about him all the time."

"No you don't! I have to push and prod every little bit of information about him out of you. And why does he never come with us when we meet? I'm pretty open minded Harry. I'm not going to mind if you bring your boyfriend along."

She might as well have slapped him in the face. Harry spluttered and spilled his drink down his front. "H-Bob is _not_ my boyfriend!"

"It's the twenty-first century. You don't need to hide these things anymore you know."

"He's not," Harry whimpered, his head drooping. "I swear."

She nodded quietly. "Okay, Dresden. Whatever you say. But, if you guys ever have problems, I'm always here to help." With that, she paid for the meal and walked out the door.

**A/N: **Because you know someone in Dresdenland thinks it.


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